I'm Alive
by tii-chan17
Summary: Since Nezumi left him, Shion sits in his chair and stares at the open window until precisely midnight, come rain, shine, exhaustion or despair. But only on specific days, only very specific days.


**A/N: Yes, it's ANOTHER Nezushi reunion fic, sorry not sorry. This is from a prompt I found on tumblr, an anonymous message to the blog nezushi-headcanons. Hope you enjoy, leave a review if you do!**

* * *

I'm Alive

Time wasn't important to Shion, but he had a calendar and kept it religiously. Time wasn't important to Shion, but he always had to know exactly what day it was. Time wasn't important to Shion, but on specific – always very specific – days he would stay up, staring at the clock, until exactly midnight.

The joke was, Shion hated time. He hated it intensely, would have given anything to just let the hours, days, months slip by in a blissfully ignorant haze, but could not let himself lose it. No time could be lost, not a single day. He had to keep track. Some days, Shion felt like time was the only thing standing between himself and utter despair.

The day they'd first met.

The day he'd saved him from No. 6.

The day they'd shared their first kiss.

The day he'd left him.

Those days were important to Shion; so, so important. But that wasn't why he followed time so diligently, so desperately. No. The reason was that Shion thought those days might hold significance for Nezumi.

Nezumi, the lover of drama, the disciple of the monomyth, wouldn't just return at random. No, he'd surely make his appearance on a significant day, a resonant day. The perfect happy ending to the perfect love story.

This was what Shion told himself every gradually passing day. This was the importance of time to Shion.

On these significant days, these resonant days, Shion waited. He sat in his chair and opened the window, come rain or shine, and waited until the lights turned out and the neighbours fell asleep and the chilly draft set him shivering right down to his bones. He waited and waited until the hands of the clock overlapped perfectly, until the day was over. And then he went to bed with bile in his heart and tears in his eyes.

Rinse and repeat, ad infinitum.

The days when he was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open, he waited. The days when he had work early the following morning, he waited. The days when he couldn't even watch the window for the tears streaming down his cheeks, he waited.

Slowly and surely, Shion believed, time was killing him. Time killed everyone, he knew that. But he could _feel_ it, he could feel the clammy, inhuman claws around his throat that were slowly wringing the life out of him.

He hated time, but he couldn't give up on it. He just couldn't bring himself to give up on Nezumi, no matter how hard he tried.

And so, Shion resigned himself to his eternal death, waiting for that one, distant day when he would feel alive once more.

To his surprise, that day arrived without Nezumi. He'd marked it off on his calendar, circled it even.

 _Four years since Nezumi left_

There had been four years between their first and second meeting, and Nezumi had always been a fan of bookend. In his heart, Shion was fundamentally certain that today was the day. The day of reunion.

He'd vowed to himself that he wouldn't let his excitement get the better of him, that he wouldn't let himself hope, but he completely and utterly failed.

For the first time since the waiting game had begun, Shion set off to work with a smile. He even stopped by his mother's bakery for breakfast to say hello. The plain joy and relief on her face when she saw him sent a twinge of guilt through Shion's heart, suppressed though it was. Without hope, there could not be disappointment, and though Shion knew very well that he was putting himself at risk, there was no need to give his mother hope that her son would return to normal when that hope could so easily be drowned.

 _But Nezumi's going to come back tonight, definitely_ , the traitorous voice in the back of his mind whispered.

 _Shut up_ , he told it, _just shut up_.

Hope was dangerous. Hope was deadly. But then, Shion supposed, hope was the only reason he was still keeping track of time.

I hope, therefore I am, as it were. At times, Shion truly hated himself.

That night, as he had so many nights before, Shion opened his window, sat in his chair and looked out into the night. There was no storm blowing, no prophetic sign, but Shion felt in his heart that he would not have to wait much longer.

It was eight o'clock in the evening. The hands ticked towards twelve.

Shion could barely sit still. It felt like small electric currents were rushing through him, from the ends of his hairs to the tips of his toes. He really, truly felt _alive_.

 _Come on, Nezumi_ , he urged, _come be with me and see how alive I am_.

It was only towards ten that Shion began to deflate. His hope began to leak out through the pinpricks of fear that were perforating his entire body. And then, inevitably, the clock struck twelve and the pinpricks tore open to become huge, seeping gashes of hurt.

It was over. The cycle was over. And Nezumi hadn't come back.

Shion fell to the floor and curled up, sobbing, until he eventually succumbed to exhaustion.

The following day, the calendar was ripped off the wall, the clock thrown to the floor, the chair slung out onto the street.

Shion walked out of his house, head high and eyes hard, to face his new life.

Ever since that night the world had ended, Shion had stopped waiting. He'd spent more time with his mother, who'd been elated. He'd visited Inukashi and baby Shionn, even called in on Rikiga a couple of times. None of them had seemed to notice a difference in him, but Shion knew he was no longer the same. After four years of waiting, he'd finally grown up. Every now and then he'd fondly stroke the spine of his (not Shion's, _his_ ) ancient copy of Macbeth and sink into reminiscence for a few moments, but those indulgences were becoming more and more uncommon. Finally, Shion concluded, he was leading a life of his own, not some shade of an existence waiting for the other half of his heart to return.

Of course he still missed Nezumi, but it was no longer an obsession, and as time passed smoothly Shion realised that he was thinking of the other man less and less. It was strange to admit it, even to himself, but Nezumi was no longer a part of his life – for the first time since they'd both been twelve years old.

Shion was twenty now, and for the first time in his life, he went on a date.

He was a nice man, tanned and dark-haired, who worked as an electrician. His name was Arata, and to Shion he was like a breath of fresh air. He found himself acquiescing to a second date, then a third, found himself wondering whether this could become real, official.

It was at this point that Inukashi, having been invited to tea with Shion and his mother, found out about Arata and said unthinkingly, "You're seeing someone? I thought you were in love with –" A sharp look from Karan shut them up, but the damage had already been done.

Shion sucked in a breath, feeling like he'd been punched in the gut. "I –" he began, but broke off. He sat motionless for a few more moments before he stood up abruptly. "There's something I need to do," he said as way of an excuse, and almost ran out of the bakery.

He went straight home and collapsed onto his bed, sobbing his eyes out.

That night, he told Arata he couldn't see him any more. It just wasn't fair, to either of them. Inukashi had been right. Shion was still in love with Nezumi, despite his denial, despite his improvement in coping without him. Nezumi would always be Shion's one-and-only, as sickening as it sounded. And Shion accepted it.

The look of horrified shame and guilt on Inukashi's face when Shion told them he'd stopped dating Arata was so heartbreaking that Shion immediately forgave them, forgetting that he'd felt slightly bitter beforehand.

"You were right," he told them comfortingly. "I do love him, and to believe otherwise would be lying to myself and everyone around me." He still couldn't quite bring himself to say Nezumi's name aloud.

Inukashi didn't look convinced. "I still shouldn't have brought it up though. Sorry about you and that guy. For what it's worth, he sounded really nice."

Shion smiled quietly. "Yeah," he murmured. "He was."

He never went on another date.

* * *

The day Nezumi would return was to be the 25th of December 2022, a day of absolutely no significance whatsoever. It would be half past eleven, am rather than pm, and Nezumi would not come in through the window.

No. Nezumi, the lover of drama, the disciple of the monomyth, would knock on Shion's door, and it would be so unexpected that at first Shion would not recognise him.

When the moment of realisation finally came and Shion's legs gave out under him, Nezumi would catch him and hold him close and tell him everything would be alright, that he would stay this time, that he'd missed him so, _so_ much.

And Shion would finally give himself entirely to hope.

He would be alive.


End file.
